


Let Me Take Care of You

by ihavealotofwords



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaker!Wade, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, sick!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavealotofwords/pseuds/ihavealotofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade goes to visit (read: aggravate) Peter, only to find him trapped in bed with a cold. It turns out that Wade is actually a pretty good caretaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Take Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt [filled](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/46283046635/wade-whistled-happily-as-he-shifted-his-bag-of) over on [my tumblr](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/) :
> 
> Anonymous asked:  
> Spideypool: Peter is sick and wade has to take care of him and keep him from going out and being spiderman when he's sick

Wade whistled happily as he shifted his bag of take-out to his left hand so he could better pick Peter’s lock with his right. He had lost his key again, though it might be more that Peter had stole it again than he actually lost it. (Peter was persistent, demanding that it was only fair of him to steal the keys, seeing as Wade had stolen them from him in the first place. Wade had thought he’d have given up by now, but apparently he hadn’t. He just couldn’t see the logic in Wade’s argument.) He fist pumped when the door clicked open. Tucking his lockpick equipment in the pocket of his hoodie, he stepped inside the apartment.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called. He had to duck when a pillow flew at his head.

“Wade. I should have known.”

Wade looked in the living room. Peter was curled up on the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. A trash can at his feet was overflowing with tissues. He peeked out of the blanket cocoon to peer at Wade. His hair was messy, sticking up in the back in a way that was (dare Wade say) adorable. But his eyes were dull and his face was red. Wade sat the food on the counter separating the living room from the kitchen and stepped towards Peter. Peter blinked up at him.

“I thought I took your key,” he mumbled. Wade laughed.

“Like I actually need a key to get in here. That’s not nice of you to do, by the way.”

Peter scoffed. “You’re the one who stole my key to make copies of it,” he accused, coughing.

“Details,” Wade said lightly. “Speaking of which, what happened to you? You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Peter said, burrowing down into the blanket further. “It’s call being sick. I caught a bug somewhere.”

“I definitely don’t miss that,” Wade said, eyeing all of the used tissues strewn over the floor.

Peter looked at him curiously. “You can’t get sick?”

“Nope,” Wade said, popping the ‘p’ loudly. “But I brought you food,” he said, going to retrieve the take-out. Peter looked at him.

“You didn’t know I was sick… did you? You better not have installed cameras in my apartment, I swear-”

“Hey, easy,” Wade said, flopping on the couch next to Peter. “I haven’t installed any cameras in here. Promise. I just wanted to bring you some greasy, Mexican fuel before you went out for patrol tonight.”

“Really?” Peter asked, surprised. “Uh, thanks, Wade.”

“No problem,” Wade said, setting the cartons on the couch between them. “I’m just awesome like that.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but accepted a container happily. He groaned when the smell of the food hit him. “I haven’t eaten all day,” he said as he took a bite. Wade whipped around to look at him. Peter shrugged. “Didn’t feel like bothering to go get anything.”

“You should have called me,” Wade said with a frown. Peter shook his head.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Yeah, you do. I put it in your phone last time I was here.”

“What? How did you get my password?” Peter demanded. Wade grinned at him.

“A Deadpool never reveals his secrets,” he said, biting into a taco happily.

“Fine,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got to stop breaking into my stuff.”

Wade just grinned.

They ate their food in silence, Wade’s mouth busy with tacos and Peter not wanting to make small talk. By the time they had finished, Peter’s face was red again, and he was shivering. He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket back up over his shoulders. Wade placed his empty carton to the side and leaned forward, pressing a hand to Peter’s forehead. Peter’s eyes flew open.

“You’re running fever,” Wade pointed out. Peter closed his eyes again and nodded. “Do you have anything you can take?”

“Bathroom, in the closet, on the third shelf,” Peter mumbled. Wade took their trash to the kitchen before swinging to the bathroom. He dug around until he found the small bottle he was looking for. He took it to Peter, stopping on the way to grab a glass of water.

“Here,” he said, pressing two pills into Peter’s hands and holding out the water. Peter took them, swallowing the pills quickly.

“Thanks,” he rasped, looking up at Wade. Wade shrugged.

“You need anything else?”

Peter shook his head. “No,” he stood slowly. “Now I’ve just got to go get my suit on so I can patrol.”

Wade caught Peter’s shoulder. “Whoa, wait, you are not going out there in this condition.”

“You’re not my boss,” Peter said with a scowl. Wade met it with a frown of his own.

“No, but I am stronger than you.” He scooped Peter up, blanket and all.

“Hey, put me down! Wade!” Peter struggled, trying to twist out of Wade’s hold, but the fever had made him weak. Wade carried him down the hall to his bedroom. Kicking the blankets back, he settled Peter down and tucked him in snugly.

“The city will be ok on its own for one night,” Wade said as he packed the blankets around Peter. “You’d only get hurt if you went out there like this.”

Peter stopped struggling, letting out a loud sigh. “You’re right,” he mumbled quietly. Wade cupped his ear.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

Peter thumped his arm. “I said you’re right! I’ll stay in tonight. But only for tonight!” he said.

“I can live with that.”

“Stay with me?” Peter picked at the bedspread, not looking up. Wade smiled.

“Alright. Budge over.” He kicked his shoes off and climbed into the bed next to Peter. He hesitated. “It’s hot in here.” He fingered the hem of his hoodie. “Do you mind?” Peter had seen his scars several times before, and hadn’t acted like he was bothered, but Wade was still jumpy about revealing them. It was bad enough that Peter had convinced him to bare his face when he came to visit.

Peter rolled over to look at Wade. “You just want to strip in front of me,” he said tiredly, giving Wade a small grin. “Go ahead.”

Wade slipped the hoodie off, dropping it to the floor. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at Peter’s expression.

“Your butt’s on my pillow,” Peter said, shifting closer to lay his head in Wade’s lap. He shoved Wade back until he was sitting against the headboard and made himself comfortable. He didn’t even cringe when his fingers touched the tough scar tissue on Wade’s chest. “You’ll just have to stand in for it.”

Wade blinked in surprise before his expression softened. He let his hand settle on Peter’s head, stroking his hair gently. Peter let out a contented sigh.

“Thank you,” he murmured, snuggling closer against Wade. Wade continued to stroke his hair for a moment. Peter fell asleep before he responded.

“You’re welcome, baby boy.”


End file.
